A Second Chance
by Teres
Summary: Following TRON:L, Sam and Quorra are unable to unlock the 'miracle' within her and realize they must return to the Grid, but they're going to need help. Long-time friend and new employee of Sam's, Jennifer Chase, is a brilliant programmer with a promising future-and the perfect person for the task...Jen's about to get the biggest promotion of her life. Eventually Tron/OC
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own TRON - that belongs to Disney. I'm just playing with their characters for a while and I promise to put them back when I'm done. I do, however, own Jennifer Chase.

**A Second Chance**

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**Prologue**

A/N: As I'm sure you've noticed that the "update" is actually the chapter that you've already read. Sorry about that! I decided that this story really needed more of an introduction from canon characters instead of immediately thrusting an OC on you guys.

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_"How true Daddy's word were when he said: _

_all children must look after their own upbringing. _

_Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right path, _

_but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands."_

-Anne Frank

The orange and magenta sunset was fading quickly. The light swiftly evanescing and the vibrant colors being quenched into a dull purple and thick, oddly-shaped clouds as the bloated red sun finally sank beneath the skyline.

Even Sam Flynn had to admit this was a memorable one.

"When did you get home?"

Sam was jolted out of his thoughts. He found Quorra half-way in the door from the deck; her blue eyes as open and trusting as the day he met her, watching him in outright curiousity. Like a bird staring back at the bird-watcher. In the few months she had been with Sam, her hair had grown out to her shoulders, straight and sleek. And her slender, lithe body stood still in the doorway, outlined in the celestial spectacle behind her.

Even in the material world she looked like an angel.

"Just a second ago," he replied, and flashed her a reassuring grin as he dumped his motorcycle helmet and keys in their key bowl within their small foyer. Sam had abandoned his humble bachelor pad at the old Dumont car-shop in favor of an apartment closer to ENCOM tower.

But, excited panting and an insistent whine stole Sam's attention away to the carpet where Marv looked up at him expectantly. The Boston Terrier's short tail wagged happily and his tongue fell out of the side of his mouth as the dog panted.

"Hey, Marv - you been a good boy?" He squatted down to scratch Marv behind the ear. Marv took advantage of the new source of attention and angled his body towards Sam, grunting in contentment.

It wasn't so much that all three of them needed extra room, but it was also because the CEO wanted a shorter route to work.

He smirked at himself for the thought.

"What's so funny?" She inquired, her expression leaping from curiousity to gaiety. Quorra paced forward, her eyes alight.

"Nothing," he shook his head with a smirk, and left Marv to entertain himself. "Just never envisioned myself being 'Mr. Responsibility' all of a sudden, ya know?. Alan definitely wasn't expecting it." Sam plunked down onto their couch with a sigh.

Quorra's brows came together in confusion. "I thought you were called Mr. Flynn," she said.

"Nevermind," he chuckled, and then waved her over, "Com'ere for second."

She made her way past Marv who was starting to feel underappreciated again and nudged at her leg to pet him. Quorra merely sent him a coddling smile.

When she was seated, Sam nodded to her left sleeve. "How's the arm?"

Quorra tensed at that and her joviality suddenly abandoned her. She looked down at the floor, and said quietly, "It's gone completely now."

Sam bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to wince. "Let me see."

He rolled up her three-quarter length sleeve of her white cotton blouse while Quorra oversaw his actions, lending some assistance here and there. Sam watched her face carefully, observing the excess moisture gathering in her eyes, and contemplating how to proceed without making this more troubling than it already was for her.

The situation was this: Sam still had no idea how to go about unlocking the 'miracle' that his father claimed lived with the Isomorphic Algorithmns, like Quorra. Kevin Flynn never gave him any idea as to how to pursue it, and Quorra was as ignorant as Sam on the matter. Perhaps, even more so since she wasn't even sure what she was.

But, in all honesty, neither was Sam. All he knew was that her digital DNA - and likely on this side of the Grid, too - was triple-stranded. Whatever Quorra was, she was more than unique. She was something quite precious. And that was all his father could ever tell him; Kevin had shared his dreams of the Isos with Sam, but never bothered giving him instructions.

Though, try as he might, Sam was no closer to solving this riddle than when he and Quorra had left the Grid together nearly 6 months ago.

Yet, something had transpired recently that disquieted both of them.

When Quorra had emerged from the Grid, she still had the tattoo on her upper left arm. The white-blue hexagon and a sideways T had burned in her flesh like circuitry - which was something that Quorra did not display outside of the Grid. For obvious reasons.

But, Quorra's Iso marking had faded. The day before, the hexagon was gone completely from her skin, and now, as Sam finished rolling up her sleeve, his stomach turned sour when he saw nothing there. Just as she had said. There was only the bare pale flesh of her upper arm.

"You're right," he agreed quietly. He glanced up to see subtle wet tracks upon her cheeks, reflecting the light.

Sam couldn't have this. "Hey, hey. C'mon now," he soothed and gently pulled her upper body against his chest. "It's gonna be alright, okay? We're gonna figure this out, and fix this."

Quorra laid her head on his shoulder and took a shaky breath. "But, how Sam?" She asked quietly, and with far too much resignation than he ever wanted to hear coming from her. She sat up and quickly wiped her cheekbones dry; she looked forward, though unfocused. "We've been trying for months now. I- I just - I just feel so useless anymore."

Sam took her hands into both of his own, giving them an affection squeeze, and garnering her attention once more. He held her gaze unwaveringly. "Listen to me, Quorra," he entreated her, earnestly. "We _are_ going to fix this - and then we _are_ going to find what Dad knew about you. Even if I have to go back to the Grid. And then you'll decide what you want to do from there. This is up to you. But, don't you _ever_ think you're useless. Not ever."

She looked down then, blushing at his words. A ghost of a smile touched her lips.

It made him love her even more.

"Hey, look at me," he instructed.

Quorra's blue eyes flicked upwards again.

"Quorra, you are the most talented programmer I know..."

She laughed then - an abrupt guffaw. But, her face lit up like the first time he told her he loved her.

"I wasn't finished yet," he jabbed, good-naturedly. A big grin on his face.

She composed herself, and nodded for him to continue.

"Honestly, I think you're almost as good as my dad was."

Quorra's eyes grew huge at that, and her amusement was swiftly chased away by her shock. "Really?" she breathed.

Sam nodded, but then made an indecisive face. He pressed his lips together and shook his head. "_But_... I doubt you'll ever attain to my level..."

Quorra at least knew him well enough by now to sense his sarcasm. She gave an unlady-like snort. "Of modesty?" She suggested, grinning.

"_Exactly_," he agreed, and kept a straight face until Quorra burst out laughing. He chuckled, relishing in her happiness.

When Quorra settled down, her eyes were thoughtful and she glanced at him hopefully. "Maybe we can return to the Grid. Since -" she shook her head, "since we've been so unsucessful. Maybe the answer isn't inside of me, after all."

Sam watched her and hummed at her reasoning in agreement.

She met his gaze again. "What if your father has something at his Safehouse? I know, he kept certain things from me...Things I think he meant for you. But, he never had a way of getting them to you."

He tried to find his voice. Sam cleared his throat, pushing away sudden emotion at the thought of his father. It may have been six months, but it was still recent enough to hurt.

To find him again after twenty years... and then to lose him all over again. Sam mourned with Quorra for months after the Reintegration.

"What kinds of things?" His brows knit together.

Quorra examined his face, and shadow of concern passed over her delicate features; she replied: "Diary entries, I think. He spoke to himself often... in his room, over the many cycles we lived there. I tried not to intrude." Quorra avoided his gaze sheepishly.

Sam forced a smirk. "It's alright. I doubt he would have minded."

She simpered. "Maybe."

He drew in a deep breath, and leaned forward. His body weary from the work day, and his mind and heart now weary from thinking on these things. Sam ran his hands over his face, through his hair. And held his tense neck. He felt Quorra's hand on his back, soothing his shoulders.

Sam felt relief at her touch, and he sighed. He looked back at her curiously, a tired smile tugged at his lips.

She peered at him, her head cocked to match the angle of his own. "So, Sam Flynn. Will we return to the Grid?"

He considered her open and lovely face, and then peered down at his hands. He didn't answer her at first, but instead considered all of the implications such a journey would entail.

There were so many responsibilities that he had taken on since Quorra had arrived. Not only had he picked up guardianship over her, but he had stepped back into his father's old shoes. The ones Kevin had abandoned over two decades ago.

The CEO of Encom couldn't very well just disappear. He couldn't imagine what Alan would have to say if he followed in his father's footsteps, should something happen on the other side and prevent him from returning to the material world. It wouldn't really work well this time. There wasn't anyone there that he could trust to help him make it back to the Portal in time... before it closed again.

Ideally, he and Quorra needed someone to stay on the other side of the SHV 20905 laser - to ensure their successful return. Just in case they didn't make it back in time; that way there was someone babysitting them, and capable of re-opening the portal if something went wrong.

But, who would that be?

The only other person able to do so would be either Lora Bradley... which Sam was quick to unconsider... or Quorra herself. Which would mean that Sam would have to do this jump , even Sam knew better than that.

First of all, there was no way that Quorra would ever allow him to go by himself. He nearly chuckled at that. Her fierce loyalty was something he treasured, and in all honesty, he could use someone like her.

He certainly did not expect to arrive at a peaceful and whole city. Sam's gut warned him of a chaotic world; perhaps, even more savage than his first trip there.

CLU had been a cruel tyrant, but he at least had been a strong leader. And Sam knew from the history of the material world that the absence of leadership always opened the door to turmoil.

And secondly - and he hated to admit this - he actually needed the help of a second person. Specifically the help of someone very familiar with programming.

Sam hung his head, deep in thought. He felt Quorra shift beside him on the couch, but still sensed her focus on him. And he lifted his head and found her staring at him, waiting for an answer.

"Quorra," he began carefully. "If I go back there, I'm going to need you to be on the outside."

"What?" She demanded; her shock gave out quickly to offense.

He figured she would be upset.

"Just-just hear me out, before you argue with me," he held up his hands in placation.

Quorra frowned, and impatiently figetted on the couch cushions beside him. She watched him in anxious anticipation.

"In case something happens... I need someone on the outside to re-open the portal. In case I don't make it back in time. I'm not... I'm not saying that I'm looking for trouble, but it would be stupid of me not to expect it."

"Sam," Quorra started. "I shouldn't have even said anything. This is too dangerous."

He looked her straight in the eye, and shook his head. "Quorra, we don't have choice. We need to at least know what's going on with you. And if I discover how to unlock your DNA, I mean, that's a huge plus, but my main concern is making sure you're alright. This isn't a one-sided relationship. Let me help you."

She sighed and winced in consideration of the situation. He knew he had her at that.

Her voice was very quiet at first, "Alright." She found more boldness as she spoke, because she too was good at pointing out the obvious. "But, you're going to need help in there, and I'm not going to be able to do a lot from the outside." Her shoulders sunk.

"I know," he agreed, and Quorra's eyes flashed in surprise. "I have someone in mind. An old friend of mine, actually. Someone who's really good at programming."

"But, you haven't even told Alan about the Grid yet. Who else are you going to trust to go in there with you?" Her clear blue eyes searched his face.

"Yeah, I know," he conceded. "But, there's something different about this person. They're a... Believer, for lack of a better term."

Her brows crinkled in confusion. "What does that mean?"

Sam made a face, thinking of his choice of words. "She believes in the supernatural. A Christian. She's told me all kinds of weird stories... stuff that I've never heard of. It's like..." He shook his head, unable to describe it to her. "I don't know. But, I know if I told her about the Grid, she wouldn't freak out." And he smiled lopsidedly. "Not like Alan would."

"And is this friend of yours - the programmer - as good as me?" She quipped, and an eyebrow arched in mock skepticism. She smiled a little too, in spite of her worries.

Sam chuckled briefly. "Almost," he promised.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own TRON - that belongs to Disney. I'm just playing with their characters for a while and I promise to put them back when I'm done. I do, however, own Jennifer Chase.

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**SECO****ND CHANCE**

CHAPTER 1: A Funny Thing Happened At the Office Today

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"_For truth is always strange; stranger than fiction."_

-Lord Byron

Mondays were odd, she decided.

Such an abrupt end to the weekend - really; it seemed like it had just been Friday. But, somehow due to obligation, or the threat of losing her job, Jennifer Chase always managed to show up to work.

In fact, the obligation she felt was due to the pretenses under which she got a programming job at ENCOM; courtesy of the new CEO, Sam Flynn.

A year ago, she had tried her hand at music mixing; a branch of programming of sorts - at least, the computer-generated branch: of which she had grown proficient with. Her company was especially enamored by the program she designed for them. But, one hierarchy, back-biting, drama-fest led to another among her co-workers, and before Jen had the time to roll her eyes at the insanity of it all, she found herself forced out of a job.

Fortunately, a long-time friend of hers, Sam Flynn, just happened to give her a call...

Totally, a _deus ex machina_ in that situation.

Today, however, in her "cozy", off-white, 8'x8' cubicle, Jen sat typing furiously at her black, split keyboard. Her fingers never rested. Plugging in new commands. Different codes. All being woven together into the updated version of an overwhelmingly advanced software with a legacy older than she was.

Yet, however small her workspace, however little benefits this job offered, and however little she was getting paid in comparison to her last job; she kept catching the negative attitude creeping up on her. _"Don't despise the day of small beginnings",_ her pastor had preached over and over again. Well, she was _trying_ not to. Thankfulness was a choice - not always a compulsion.

Jen released a heavy sign. She was supposed to be developing part of the new programming for ENCOM's latest software update. But, these little - rather, _big - _bugs she kept encountering were seriously slowing down her progress.

For the _seventh_ time that day, the same error message popped up on her monitor.

**OPERATING SYSTEM ERROR 5: 5 ("ACCESS DENIED")**

She could cheerfully cudgel the operating system. If glares could frighten hardware, she decided with satisfaction, she was certain her office equipment would be rendered incontinent.

Jen had attempted sidestepping the error message from every angle she could think of; and it was saying something that even _she _couldn't get through this impasse. She already had administrative privileges, so that wasn't an issue. Evidently, there was a system wide issue of which her superiors neglected to tell her.

She groaned at her monitor in deep-seated frustration... and resignation. There was no other way around it. Jen would have to ask the higher-ups for help.

"Having trouble, Jen?" A woman asked, from an adjacent cubicle. There was an undeniable undertone of ridicule there.

Before she could stop herself, Jen sent a poisonous glare through the wall of her cubicle. Then, shook her head. There wasn't any point in even entertaining this woman's sour attitude. It was just an invitation for strife - and Jen knew better than to get mixed up in that.

_Treat others how you'd like to be treated, Jen_, she chided herself.

"Nothing I can't handle," she called back; with far more patience than she was feeling at the moment. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Thanks."

"Of course, hon!" Jen could practically see the sneer on that woman's face from her reply.

_Sweet Lord... Keep a guard over my mouth!_

She snorted to herself as she rose from her desk chair. "Why is it, that the most bitter people always pick me as their punching bag?" Jen muttered to herself.

Jen smoothed down the wrinkles in her gray skirt; the fabric reached almost to her knees, and was fitted to her body nicely, complimenting her curves, and helping to mask her short frame. Even with her high heels, she stood only 5'3" in height. Her lack of altitude was one of her least favorite physical qualities.

She stepped out of her cubicle, and strode with purpose down the aisle, avoiding the sharp and questioning glances she received from her co-workers as they peeked out from their own cubicles. Her heels clicked with each step upon the tile.

There truthfully weren't that many friendly people at her new job.

A man in a black business suit with a red and black stripped tie approached from the opposite side of the aisle. He passed her going the opposite direction; on a return trip from the men's room.

Jen chanced a haphazard smile at him as they crossed paths.

His brown eyes flicked up from his path for a moment, before returning to the floor. Hardly acknowledging her existence. His mouth a thin line.

She almost had the chance to feel disappointed at the snub when his cologne cloud met her nostrils. Much like the debris-laced tail of a comet. Her hand flew to her nose to keep from sneezing.

"You alright there, Miss Chase?"

Jen dropped her hands to her sides and stopped abruptly in her tracks. That smooth voice was quite familiar.

She leaned backwards to peer around the doorway to the last cubicle she passed, before turning around.

"Hey, Mr. Dillinger. How are you doing?" It was a loaded question. She couldn't really hide her surprise. What was he doing out here? Why wasn't he in his office?

Edward Dillinger Jr. was seated in a desk chair, facing her. His hands were folded in his lap and his face was set with impatient interest. One brow arched.

Jen had heard the stories about his father - which was why she regarded him with guardedness. Although, she had to admit it really wasn't fair at all to do so. After all, he couldn't help what his father did, right? Surely, he was a better man.

Well, he certainly _seemed_ nice enough.

"Is there a problem, Miss Chase?" he asked, the corners of his mouth turned upwards but failed to form a smile. His blue eyes held her gaze unwaveringly behind his small-framed glasses.

His cool confidence, his ever casual-professional dress and demeanor, and - she had confessed - incredible facial structure, made him an undeniably handsome man.

Jen smiled in spite of herself - this was ridiculous; but, somehow the nervous, star-struck teenager inside of her insisted on being foolish around him. Of course, she tried to comfort herself with the fact that she was just as nervous when she met Sam Flynn's godfather and new chairman of board, Alan Bradley. So, in truth, famous names were what made her act this way.

"Um...yeah," she fumbled for words and dropped her focus to the floor. She anxiously tucked a stray strand of hair behind her right ear. "I'm having some trouble with the new security features - I've tried everything.. come at it from every angle I can think of, but I keep getting stopped by Operating System Error 5 error messages." She looked up at him again, and licked her drying lips.

Dillinger sat still, watching her, studying her face as if to determine whether she was kidding. There was something about the way he was looking at her... the corners of his eyes crinkled up.

Was he amused?

Apparently. A smile broke through as he turned away, and looked back at the flatscreen monitor upon the oak and particle board desk at his side. He drew in a breath before turning back to her. Dillinger appeared nearly composed once more.

Jen couldn't tell whether he reacted to her own behavior, or her situation. Either way, she could feel herself bristling over it. What on earth was so funny about an OS error 5?

"You're not the first to have a problem with this - there's some issues going on with _Mr. Flynn__'s _designs."

Jen was taken aback by Dillinger's statement. _Ah, hence his amusement_. It was no secret that he and Sam Flynn were at odds. Past interactions between their fathers had predestined their animosity, it seemed.

"I'm working on some security issues right now," he nodded towards the monitor. "Once I'm finished here, I can come and take a look at what you have... or you can ask Miss Verne, if you've feeling particularly industrious today," he added with a smirk. He knew Jen got her work done - even in the short time she was here, she had made quite the impression. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

But, there was a masked meaning to his behavior... she didn't exactly underst- _was he trying to flirt with her_?

She looked at the carpet, again. "I, uh..." _God, it was embarrassing to be so nervous around this guy_. "I think I'll ask Miss Verne, actually. I - I _do _want to get this security program finished up. But, thanks," she said, and managed to timidly meet his gaze. Then nodded to further prove her gratitude. She fought back a sheepish grin.

She found his smirk had evolved into a leer.

Despite whatever physical attraction she felt, Jen was growing more and more uncomfortable around Dillinger by the millisecond. It was time to go.

"Have a good day, then." She slipped out of the threshold even before he offered his own parting salutations.

Jen was feeling doubly glad of choosing Verne over Dillinger. One thing, she promised herself, was that she was going to have a nice woman to woman chat with Verne about that guy. Seriously. Did Verne ever find herself creeped out by Dillinger? Did he ever try to flirt with her?

For Dillinger's sake, Jen hoped he would never be so foolish as to "come onto" the CEO's new girlfriend, Quorra Verne. Yet, Dillinger might be motivated to do any number of foolish things now that he had been removed from the board by Flynn himself.

Well, 'removed' might not be the best term for it; more along the lines of 'be happy I'm not firing you for helping sully the name of my father's company through your selfish money-making agendas.' At present, Dillinger was nothing more than a glorified IT director - a far cry from his noble position less than 6 months ago. Before Sam Flynn suddenly decided to take back ENCOM.

No one quite understood why Dillinger decided to stick around after that. And no one thought it wise for Flynn to keep him around, either. Dillinger knew enough to be dangerous... even if he was contract-bound to uphold company loyalty.

Leaving his cubicle behind, Jen continued past several more rows of cubicles before she came to an automatic, sliding glass door. It opened into a large hallway. Immediately to her right was a wooden door with brass lettering screwed into the wood. 'E. Dillinger' hung upon the wood - it had been his office before and after his demotion. Flynn apparently chose to leave him some dignity and allow him to keep the same work space.

Jen walked past the door.


	3. Chapter 2

**A Second Chance**

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**A/N: **A special thanks goes out to guest reviewer **myob** for your very kind review. It helps a lot to know how the readers are enjoying this story, and what elements are catching their fancy. I hope you continue to enjoy this fic as this story grows, and I hope that I can to carry on an accurate feel for both the canon characters and the Tron world in general. And to be honest - I think the actors simply did _that_ excellent of a job in establishing their characters. Their performances are definitely something that I'm examining as I pen this fic. Thanks again, Kris - I really appreciate it!

And thank you also goes to **Matt** for his review as well! I appreciate your enthusiasm, I'm glad you like this fic so far.

**Copyright Note:** I do not own any of the lyrics to Men At Work's songs. I simply borrowed a few lines from their "Down Under" song.

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**Chapter 2 - That's Not In My Job Description**

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_"Never be afraid to trust an unknown_

_future to a known God."_

-Corrie Ten Boom

Out in the hallway, Jen passed over red Berber carpeting accented with black laurel designs, that lined the lobby. At the very end of the hall, nearly fifty yards ahead of her, were the elevators. Silently, she slipped past several other offices along the way and stole glances within, spying several senior programming coordinators busy at work, or simply working at appearing busy.

She reached the end of the hall and chewed her bottom lip as she dug her thumb into the circular call button for the elevator. If the reception on her own floor was cold among co-workers, it was certainly the surface of Mercury in comparison to upstairs. But that wasn't the case for everyone. There were a number of good people who worked at ENCOM. Including Quorra Verne. She just wished they were on her floor.

Jen knew Quorra well enough, but the other executive software engineers upstairs were rather unwelcoming of the new recruits. Enough trips up to the twelfth floor had opened her eyes about how different Jen apparently was from the other, older engineers. However, Quorra never took much notice of such differences and was merely content to have a familiar face around. And for that, Jen appreciated her friendship all the more.

An upward arrow lit up above the elevator doors, accompanied by a cheery ding. The doors noisily slid open and Jen boarded the lift, finding it empty. She turned around and hit the button for the twelfth floor and the doors sluggishly slid shut. The air conditioning within the cabin left a lot to be desired and the stale air of the elevator shaft began to leak inside. She wrinkled her nose.

Her stomach fluttered as the upward acceleration increased. She laid a supporting hand on the rail bolted to the cabin wall.

Jen inched closer to the front of the cabin and exited as soon as the doors re-opened, shifting to the side as a disgruntled waste-paper collector brushed past her. The wizened old man had a deep-set frown that he momentarily directed at Jen as pulled his overly full cart carrying boxes and boxes of shredded papers, onto the elevator.

She winced in return, and ducked down the hall to the right, towards Quorra's office. The entire floor smelled of fresh popcorn, and Jen's stomach growled, reminding her of the lunch she skipped nearly two hours before.

All of the offices had dark-stained wooden doors and large picture windows with black blinds drawn across nearly half of them. Some of the occupants had pulled back the shades, and they sat at their desks working. Most of the exec's didn't look up from their work, and Jen was thankful for that. She had had enough awkward encounters for the day.

Eight doors down, she reached an office door marked with brass-finished letters forming the name, **Verne**. She walked up to the door, and paused a moment, before gingerly reaching up her hand and forming a loose fist. Jen rapped the wood three times in rapid succession and took a small step backwards, awaiting a response.

A few moments later, the metal latch clicked as the door swung open, and Jen was more than a little amazed to see Sam Flynn on the other side of the door. She had yet to see him during her normal work hours.

"Oh hey, Jen. How's it goin'?" He asked, pleasantly surprised. He greeted her with his characteristic lop-sided smile, and leaned on the door. Jen's gaze momentarily drifted past his shoulder and spotted Quorra at her desk, her bright eyes watching their interaction with curiosity as she ate a late lunch - she munched industriously on a mouthful of lettuce.

Jen gave Sam a quick once-over with her brows raised and her growing grin wry. In all of the years they had known each other, she had never seen Sam in a pair of... dress pants. Jeans. It had always been jeans! She tried not to laugh. Not only was he sporting a neatly pressed pair of black pants, but he wore a burgundy button-down shirt and an endearing matching tie to go with them.

And then she spied his dress shoes.

She giggled. "Wow," she slipped. But, she pressed her lips together attempting to silence her mirth.

"What?" Sam demanded. His brows suddenly furrowed, and his smile slipped away. He straightened out of his slack posture. A bit defensive.

"Nothing... I just... I've never seen you in Dockers before."

Sam's smirk resurfaced slowly. He glimpsed downward momentarily, regarding her comment. "Yeah," he agreed. "Guess I had to drop the punk look eventually, right?" He stepped aside for Jen to enter. She offered him a small smile in exchange. She was working up a smart retort for him, but she didn't have the chance.

"Hi, Jen! What are you doing here?" Quorra beamed, rounding the corner of her desk. Evidently having consumed the last forkful, she left the rest of her dish forgotten. She came to stand in front of her desk.

"Hi, Quorra!" Jen smiled a greeting in return.

Sam half-turned to regard his girlfriend, before glancing back again to give Jen a thoughtful look.

"Well, I was... actually wondering if you had a minute," Jen began. She glanced apprehensively between the two of them. Having Sam's help with this system error could get her back to work in no time. And then she'd finally finish off this software update. Jen absolutely relished the thought.

It'd be nice to have that off her desk - and have her supervisor off her back. " - if you could help me out with something. There's been an error in the new update that's giving me grief."

Sam didn't respond at first, and instead shut the door to Quorra's office slowly and precisely. The latch bolt gave only a petite click, as it slipped into place.

She watched him carefully. His body had grown tense, and Jen began spinning calculations in her mind.

"The OS Error 5, with access denied?" Sam deadpanned. His eyes didn't leave the door.

Jen blinked. "Yeah, how'd you know?"

When he faced Jen again, his express was solemn. He ran a hand over his blonde hair, as he brushed past Jen to wander in thought. Like he'd been up half the night worrying about it.

And reflexively Quorra gazed after at him with concern stealing the joy from her eyes. Her mouth was drawn tight into a grim line; all traces of her habitually merry soul evaporated like water off a soldering iron.

And a knot of cold fear dropped into Jen's gut like lead. "What's wrong?" Jen breathed.

This was completely uncharacteristic - for Quorra, at least. But, to be fair she hadn't seen Sam this upset since six months ago.

Whatever _that_ had been about.

She never could get him to open up about it. And strangely enough Quorra had turned up in his life at the exact same time. For the first few months of getting to know Quorra, Jen had initially pinned his sudden bout of depression on his new girlfriend. But, she later recanted such silly accusations.

It wasn't until much later she realized that Quorra was the reason why Sam got better.

But, as for this new turn of events... Jen could only wonder. Dozens of scenarios were flooding through her mind then, and not the least of which was that this might somehow be her fault. She _was_ the newest programmer at ENCOM.

Building new computer software wasn't extremely different from what she worked with before - designing and programming synthesizers and sound modules. But, it was a completely different style of work here.

Maybe she had built the basis of the upgrade incorrectly? After all, she was no expert in this field - she definitely didn't feel like one anyway. And truth be told, Jen had never actually been trained for her position. She was simply instructed to follow what felt natural to create a new upgrade for the company. _"You'll figure it out,"_ Sam told her months ago. _"Trust me, you'll be good at this stuff."_ He had observed her enough at her old job to consider her for ENCOM, and apparently he really liked what he saw.

Because here she was.

Sam frowned, and shook his head slightly. "I really don't want to get into it. Not now, and not_ here_..." he confided.

"Oh... okay," Jen said. But, she was hardly okay with this.

Her skin flushed from anxiety, and she felt a veil of perspiration forming on her face. Her eyes flitted to Quorra briefly for confirmation.

Quorra remained silent, and appeared distressed. Lines of tension lay between her brows. She slowly and methodically wrung her hands - probably not even aware she was doing so. Her ice blue eyes never left Sam as he paced the carpet.

Jen was beginning to feel a bit sick to her stomach. She looked back to Sam, and found him staring at her. Her throat went dry. "S-so what can I do about this?" She croaked. Then cleared her throat, and elaborated, "I kind of can't move forward with the update."

Sam pursed his lips, looking away. "Tell you what. Why don't you take the rest of the day off?" He met her stare. "And I'll tell you a little more about what's going on, tonight. That sound okay? You free tonight?" He threw the last two questions at her without pause.

Jen relaxed a little at that. Maybe she wasn't going to lose her job... "Yeah, yeah. Definitely. Um, what time?"

He paused to exchange a glance with Quorra, who merely lifted her brows in question. His eyes went to Jen again. "Late. Like ten o'clock... At my dad's old arcade."

She licked her dry lips, contemplating. "Uh, _alright_," she reluctantly agreed, her brows furrowed. Why on earth were they meeting there? "Boy, that _is_ late though," she commented, and forced a short laugh. How was she going to get to work by 8 AM tomorrow if she was out going to be out a _while -_ no doubt - and on the other side of town?

"Yeah, sorry," he apologized. Although he was more dismissive than remorseful. "But, can you make it? I actually could use _your_ help with this... this thing."

"Well, sure... but, from your dad's arcade, though?" She queried. "How can we do anything from there?"

"Trust me." He raised his brows, and mischief lurked in the sudden brightening of his eyes. The corner of his mouth quirked just slightly. "We can do a lot from there."

* * *

Jen pulled up to the curb, and depressed her brakes. They squealed in response, echoing off the empty streets and nearby buildings. She really needed to have her vehicle serviced soon.

She switched off the car's headlights and then threw her old, red Honda Civic into park - right behind a Ducati motorcycle. The smaller vehicle sat directly on the rounded corner of the curb, in front of FLYNN'S ARCADE. It was an older model. One that Sam had poured much time, effort, and love into. It was the motorcycle left behind by his father.

She knew no matter how old this bike might grow, no matter how much money he might have to pour into it over the years, Sam would never get rid of this one. Too much memory was attached to it. Though Sam never talked about it. He wasn't a sentimental man. Not at all.

The fact that he'd once mentioned in passing that it belonged to his father... well, Jen knew not to touch that topic again. She respected the boundaries of their friendship enough not to push it.

Music murmured from within the arcade.

She imagined Sam felt bitter-sweet about his dad's property, though. It belonged to his father after all. But, considering the man simply up and left him - no phone calls, no letters, no emails. Sam had been seven years old at the time. Roughly five years after his mother had been killed in a car accident. Leaving him with only his grandparents to raise him.

And nobody knew where Kevin Flynn was to this day. Not Sam. Not Alan. Not Kevin's parents. No one.

Jen suspected that's what hurt Sam the most, really. The lack of closure. One day, his father and only surviving parent just vanishes. And it certainly wasn't a private event by any means. Not when your father is the CEO of ENCOM. Sam spent the next three years with a camera in his face... being asked questions that he could never know the answers to. The chief among them always being, 'Where's your father?'

That question left a wide open hole in her friend that Jen knew he carried to this day. It was a subject he never dwelled on, and was always quick to throw up shields of sarcasm to avoid.

She frowned in thought as she locked her car with the Honda key fab. Then jammed her keys into her purse, which hung loosely from her shoulder.

Jen crossed the sidewalk to the front door of the building. Her sneakers silenced her footfalls entirely. Just outside, her hand paused at the handle as she listened, her head cocked slightly, barely making out the lyrics. The song was familiar enough.

_I come from a land down under_

_Where women glow and men plunder_

_Can't you hear, can't you hear that thunder?_

She pulled the handle, swinging open the door.

_"__You better run, you better take cover_!"

Her senses were momentarily overladen by the blaring Men At Work song inside, and the underlying chorus of bleeping, pinging, and humming arcade games. All of them still remained under loosely laid plastic sheets, protected from two decades worth of dust and insect build-up. The sheets stirred like giant leaves at the pressure change created when she came through the door.

Even though the arcade game lights were obscured through thin tarps, they still twinkled and flared beneath. A true plethora of visual and auditory stimuli to captivate the teenaged minds of the 1980s. She mused over this pensively, having only been born in '85. And she wondered what Kevin Flynn's business must have been like during her birth year.

Jen's eyes came to rest eventually on the light above in Flynn's office, overlooking the army of gaming machines. But, her feet took her forward, down the immediate aisle ahead. There she saw a neon sign above one machine in particular that stood alone. Against the wall. The single machine in the entire arcade without a plastic sheet shrouding it.

As she approached, tentative and circumspect, the silver and white title of the game came into focus for her.

TRON.

Jen reached the cabinet, and peered down at its monitor. The blue and yellow demo lightcyclists buzzed as they turned back and forth, leaving walls of light in their wake. She watched for a few moments in fascination. It brought back memories. Ancient history for her.

Back when she was even shorter, and by far, nerdier. Before she became a woman and finally made something of her obsession with programming computers. Back when her was blowing all of her allowance in video arcades.

But, there was one particular upright game she enjoyed the most back then. It's glowing artwork and other attributes entranced her and somewhere in her heart, she always had a fondness for its need requirement of practiced skill, and overall simplicity. There were no machine guns. Nor karate themes, nor mutants. Nor aliens, nor race cars. Like the other games that were out when she was much younger.

It was in one of those video arcades that she first met a teenaged Sam Flynn.

She smirked at the memory.

"Jen?"

Jen jumped at interruption, and whipped her head to the right. Sam and Quorra stood there; him with a knowing and amused look on his face; and she ever ever blithe, gently smiling in greeting. They both were toned down in dress. Jen was glad now that she also decided to wear her jeans.

Sam had abandoned his earlier outfit for jeans and a hoodie, while Quorra sported gray sweatpants and white t-shirt. And instead of being pinned severely to her head, her sleek black hair lay unconstrained upon her shoulders.

Jen was used to the lack of effort on Sam's part. Sam was just Sam. He wore what was comfortable, and who could blame him for that? However, Quorra seemed so relaxed she appeared ready for a sleep-over.

And Jen wondered at that - beginning to question just how long they would be trying to correct the OS error tonight.

"Oh, hi! Didn't notice you there," she said, bashfully. She cleared her throat, trying to loosen her hoarse voice. "This certainly brings back memories, doesn't it?" She looked to Sam, and gestured to the game. "Back when you used to beat _every one_ of my high scores, in middle school."

Sam shrugged. "Well, I _did_ get a lotta practice when I was younger. On this guy, actually." He gazed at the TRON, a bit wistfully.

Quorra glanced at him askance, questioning. Her blue eyes alight with innocent curiosity.

"Anyway, you ready for this?" Sam asked, his forehead wrinkled in concern as he looked to Jen, his eyes cryptically contemplative.

"Sure, where do we start?" Jen posed in return. _The sooner the better_, she reasoned.

Sam simply nodded. " 'Scuse me," he muttered as he slipped between Jen and the TRON, and then got a grip of both sides of the cabinet.

She backed away, crossing her arms. She watched Sam as he began sliding the cabinet out from its position. She peeked over at Quorra, skeptical, wondering what on earth this would accomplish.

And then, she saw it. A small door behind the TRON game. Her brow furrows in consideration. _Was it a service door of some kind?_

Then Sam glanced back at her once, one eyebrow lifted in his typical, Sam-way of gauging others. Almost asking her permission to proceed. He fished around in his jacket pocket for something.

He didn't wait for her to respond, though, and pushed open the small door. The springs in its hinges creaked and clicked. Sam switched on a small flashlight that he produced from his pocket.

Jen crowded closer behind him, attempting to see beyond the doorway. A hallway. There was an empty hallway behind the TRON game. Her mouth gaped.

"C'mon," Sam urged her. He wiggled the door, indicating for her not to let it close. One of the first things she noticed was the stiff springs of the door. It probably needed some WD-40.

She felt the tension of the springs lessen, and realized Quorra was right behind her. So, Jen didn't tarry. The petite door retracted shut behind them with a clang.

Ahead of them, the narrow beam of Sam's flashlight illuminated their path, revealing dusty, plastered walls with broken-off plaster here and there, showing red bricks standing naked. Sam led them straight for a short distance, and then the hallway turned to the left at ninety-degrees. Sam's feet tapped against metal steps when he turned the corner and began to descend.

Jen followed him, trying to absorb all the details of this very odd place. Though Her eyes kept close watch of her feet and the stairs, and she kept her hands out beside her, sliding down the rails mounted to both walls. More than once, her hand went through a dust-laden cobweb. And she shook her hand violently.

Whether the web was vacant or not, Jen didn't care for spiders or their webs. She bravely suppressed a squeal of disgust.

The air down here smell of dust, old paint, and mold. The last one scent easily explained by the intermittent dripping she heard. Jen peered above her, but she couldn't identify the source. She wondered idly if the seal to a toilet somewhere above was leaking.

At the bottom of the stairs, Sam followed the tunnel which turned to the left, and briefly left Jen and Quorra in the dark. Jen soon reached the bottom as well and crowded Sam who stood before a pair of double-doors. A sign was bolted to the right door, indicating that this threshold beyond was the electrical room.

He deliberately reached out and gripped the lever-style door handle of the left-hand door, and then opened it. The old door groaned.

Jen shadowed him, still pondering what this all had to do with the OS error.

But, she trusted Sam.

In the room ahead, there was all sorts of curious clutter. Old computer casings, lamps, a microwave - a very old one - filing cabinets, tool boxes, an old washer, a couch, a desk and chair just below a window with bars, a criss-cross designed bookshelf, _crates_ and _crates_ of motherboards, and... one very unusual piece of technology. Of all the things Jen had seen tonight, this honestly shocked her the most.

Through Sam, she heard bits and pieces of the work of Lora Bradley, Alan's wife. Specifically about her work on the ENCOM SHV 20905 laser. Once Jen had seen a picture of it. An old photo Sam showed her. And from the limited details Sam passed down from his boyhood memories, Jen knew this had to be it.

The base of the device was complex with looping wires and curious glass tubes. The barrel of the laser was long and wide, gleaming silver under the spotlight. Behind it, there were various adjustment wheels.

Jen didn't pretend to understand what Lora's work was used for, but what she did know was that the government quickly picked up the funding for Lora's work. And after that, all related information was placed under tight wraps. That was one thing the government was very good at - suppressing information from the public.

She remained stationary a moment, hesitant. Not really knowing what to say.

"Sam? Is-is... Isn't this the Shiva laser?" She fumbled.

Behind them, Quorra slipped inside silently, pulling the door to its latch, but didn't fully close it. She turned, then noticed Jen and the laser as she did so. She approached them both casually before passing behind Jen en route to the couch. Quorra settled herself into the doughy cushions, submerging farther and farther. Marked amazement crossing her features. The springs were well over twenty years old.

Sam simply hummed in question, as he plopped himself down into the desk chair. He swiveled around to face Jen, regarding first her bewildered eyes, and then the device standing abaft her.

He set his lips into a tight line, and cleared his throat. "Yeah. It is," he confirmed. He gazed up at her, his clear blue eyes sought out hers. His abrupt sobriety made her shift uncomfortably.

"What's it doing in your dad's basement?" She breathed.

He frowned. His gaze flicked to the floor; his mind somewhere else. The bright street lamps cast heavy rays of light down upon his head and shoulders like a waterfall. Accentuating his brows and cheekbones.

"He and his father have been using it." Quorra said, quietly. Her scrutinizing and penetrating seraphic eyes watched Jen.

Sam shot a cryptic look to Quorra, and the young woman seemed to shrink down even more into the couch cushions in response.

"What!?" Jen barked. "Uh-Wh-What do you mean you and _your father _have been using this? Yo-Your father's alive? And since when have you had access to some secret government equipment?" She couldn't rightly decide whether she was startled or angry by what was going on here.

"Okay! Okay!" Sam threw up his hands in surrender. "Just calm down, alright? _No_, my dad isn't around anymore, if that's what you're thinking. He's dead. He's been dead. And that's all I'm going to say about that." He stopped and directed pointed stare at Quorra, who simply shrugged. He shifted his attention back to Jen. "But, this is the part of the show where I really need your help. Yeah, this is probably a laser like what the government's been playing around with," Sam gestured to the Shiva laser. "But, my dad inherited this one from Lora Bradley directly - or at least its design. He didn't steal anything. So don't panic. There aren't a team of guys in blacks suits getting ready to break in and arrest us all for having this thing around." He sighed and rolled his eyes.

Jen snorted. "Hey, well you and I both know Border Patrol's not out there to protect our borders," she quipped, attempting to lighten the mood. She didn't even touch the subject of his father. Jen knew not to go there.

He exhaled tiredly, and slapped his hands down onto his thighs in resignation. "I hope I don't pop in your house one day and find tin foil wrapped around your head," Sam countered.

He smirked.

She smiled.

"Okay, but seriously, what have you been using this laser for?" She queried.

Sam pursed his lips, considering. "Well, you know my dad's old plugline? 'A digital frontier to reshape the human condition'?"

"_As in_ the book he wrote?" Jen inquired, cautiously. She threw him a sidelong stare.

"It's where he compiled his ideas about it, yeah," Sam conceded. "But, he was serious about what he said in there. It wasn't just theoretical 'what if' and 'let's say'. He meant what he said."

Jen blinked. "Oh-okay, you are guys are messing with me, right?" Her view swiveled between Sam and Quorra, attempting to glean some clues from their faces. They had to be joking.

Their faces remained stoic. "Seriously?" She went on. "You're trying to tell me that, what? - computer programs are actual _beings_. I thought your father was just experimenting with metaphysical ideas when he wrote that."

"What he said," Sam started carefully, his focus never faulted from her. "Is as real as that laser behind you."

Jen twisted to regard the SHV 20905 once again. She winced, trying to take this all in.

"Okay," she said, pivoting. "You're losing me here, Sam. Even if what you're saying is true, what does this have to do with the OS error that we came down here to fix, in the first place?"

Sam just stared at her. "It's got everything to do with it, Jen. But, what you need to tell me is if you're in or out?"

She groaned in frustration. "Well... yeah, of course I'm in. I'm just still not getting the connection here..."

He didn't answer her, instead he spun around in the desk chair and started typing on what appeared to be a tabletop computer. The screen clicked with each keystroke. Jen swiftly wandered up up to him, and caught a glimpse of blue-tinted text of a command-line interface on the monitor. Over his shoulder, Jen discerned: _# bin/history_, which brought up a fifteen different command-line options, the last one being: _502 LLLSDLaserControl -ok 1_.

He re-typed the last command-line option.

"Wait-wait! Why are you turning on the laser?" Jen asked hurriedly. She peeked over her own shoulder to find the SHV 20905 _tilting upwards._ And was pointing directly at herself and Sam!

Jen's face whirled back to find a prompt that had popped up on the monitor. It bleeping loudly. _**A**__**perture Clear?** __**Yes. No**._

'Yes' was highlighted.

Sam ignored her. "Stay back Quorra," he told his girlfriend, looking up from the computer. "You know what to do,"

Quorra gave a tiny nod as she stood up from the couch. She watched the process with deep-seated worry etched on her delicate features.

Sam stood up from his seat and pushed it to the side, before firmly grabbing a hold of Jen's recoiled at first, but wasn't able to break free from his hold. She looked up at him in utter horror.

"Don't move," he commanded her.

Jen swallowed, finding that her mouth had gone completely dry. Her heart hammered in her chest.

Sam reached backwards to the keyboard display and held his index over the _Return_ key. But, he paused. And looked back up at Quorra.

"I love you," he said, his husky voice tight.

Quorra simply stood there. She nodded once. A sad smile touched her lips. "I love you, too."

He nodded one last time, either to himself or to Quorra. Jen wasn't sure.

He tapped the key.

Sam gently guided Jen's chin to the side with his thumb, so that she faced Quorra as well. "Don't look directly at the light," he murmured in her ear.

Jen tightly closed her eyes. She willed herself to calm down, and attempted to even out her panicked breathing. She heard the laser start up. A very sharp, whirring noise.

And then it happened. The strangest tugging sensation Jen had ever felt. Like being pinched all over her body, but without any perceivable pain. And warmth. It grew steadier and steadier until it almost hurt, growing quickly to a peak. She became alarmed when she realized she couldn't breath. Her lungs wouldn't draw in any air at all. Like there was none to be had. Her chest constricted with the building pressure. And when she thought she might just burst something...

It all ended.

And her feet touched solid ground with a soft clap. Against a smooth glassy surface.

* * *

**E/N: **So, anyone take notice of Quorra'a last name? Any guesses as to why I chose this name? It's rather obvious, I know, but still a bit fun to see who's paying attention.


End file.
